


A Seven Nation Army

by Akoia



Category: Naruto
Genre: Assassination, Child Soldiers, Ninja, Reincarnation, Third Shinobi War, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akoia/pseuds/Akoia
Summary: Accidents happen, and one accident leads a young woman kicking and screaming into a new world where nothing makes sense.A descendant of the Senju clan is born, a girl who never should have existed. Fate will do everything in her power, to erase the stain.





	A Seven Nation Army

Coffee is an interesting thing. See, it spans all universes, all time lines, and even has its spot firmly nestled in the cups of Shinigami hard at work. It's truly the lifeblood of the universe. Some might even suspect that coffee has a mind of its own, that it is the only true agent of the gods. That when the universe doesn't flow in the way one suspects, coffee is there to interfere. 

Such as with Shinigami 16534-B, or James, for short. A new arrival who had been stuck on desk duty for close to eight hundred years by that point. Filing paperwork, deciding where souls would go on their next journey, filing souls that were dead, and setting up conference dates for the higher ups. A truly thankless job. And so it was that in his cup was always filled with the strongest brew that the interns possibly could. And he'd never had a problem before, so he didn't see himself _ ever _having a problem. 

But it was a problem, at precisely 7:36 in the morning, on two worlds on opposite ends of two galaxies. Before him, two pieces of paper were haphazardly thrown on his desk by the courier and while reaching to grab them, his elbow bumped the coffee off his desk. He was unable to save either the paper nor the coffee from landing on the ground. The mess was bad enough, but the hand written report on two deaths was starting to run. 

Through squinted eyes, James rewrote them, but the words were so smudged, that he'd incorrectly assigned two souls the wrong universe of reincarnation. To one, Jamie Remerez, a land of elemental nations and shinobi. And to the other, Shin Tomido, to a young couple in Ontario, California. 

Typically, a soul would be reborn into their world of origin. It made it easier, and kept the numbers even. But when souls crossed worlds, there wasn't usually enough room, and a new existence would need to be created. Fresh energy, a new body, and a dent in Fate's carefully laid plan for humanity. 

So, while Hidi Remereze took her last breath at 19 at a college frat party, taking a dive off of the roof into the swimming pool on a skateboard (a move that her friends would later remember as 'totally righteous'), a new child was born-a child who should not have existed to the young newlywed couple Yuki and Sora Amari. A descendant of the Senju clan and great granddaughter of Hashirama Senju (who-as dictated by someone higher up in the office chain-was only supposed to have _ one _decedent at that time period).

And Shin Tomido, who was killed in a battle during the second shinobi world war, was born to a congressman and his wife, who eventually became the president. Ironically enough, Shin became the figure of one religious texts called 'the antichrist' who would never have existed had it not been for a single cup of coffee. 

It was all such a tremendous screw up, that James was demoted into the lower core of the Shinigami, and vowed to never drink another cup again. But when the body was made it was too late to resend the orders. And Fate was rather good at rolling with the punches.

* * *

She was a quiet child, Yuki thought, holding his daughter close. He remembered his mother always used to say that he _ never _ stopped making noise. But his child almost seemed... _ contemplative. _Like the weight of the world rested upon her tiny little shoulders. Ah, but if he had his way, she wouldn’t. No stone would dare touch her, no twig would scrape her feet. But, realistically, he knew that wasn’t possible. As much as he wished it, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to protect his daughter from the world forever. 

His wife was making rice balls, it was too hot to be cooking anything else. So he sat on their front porch, holding his child, and letting his feet dangle off the edge. Their garden had been well maintained, their little slice of heaven, where no one had come to bother them, so long as they kept their heads low. So long as they didn’t step outside of the Genjutsu that surrounded their home, keeping them hidden. 

“You might not see many people other than ma and pa,” he told his daughter, who blinked at him with her huge gray eyes. He nuzzled his nose against hers. “Hokage-sama is letting us hide here, until it’s safe. It might never be safe.” 

“What are you telling our daughter, Yuki?” Sora asked, stepping out onto the front deck and sitting next to Yuki, placing a tray of riceballs between them. She took their daughter from him, and smiled down at her. “You’ll always be safe, so long as we’re with you,” she said, rubbing her small back. “Your papa is just paranoid.” 

Their daughter didn’t make a sound, small hands curling up in her mother’s hair. Yumi was a strange child, but he parents loved her all the same. She was born in the middle of the second great shinobi war, but her parents hoped that the war would never touch her. That it would be over before it even could. Though they knew there wasn’t very much hope of that happening. The war hadn’t touched their boarders, but as the tides shifted, they thought that might be changing soon. 

“Eat up,” Sora said, handing Yuki a rice ball, and smiling at him sweetly. That same sweet face he’d fallen head over heals for when he was still a stupid kid. He took the rice ball and bit into it, slumping forward happily. Sora looked up, watching the clouds passing her by. Is this what feeling _ truly _happy was? 

“Thank you, love,” Yuki said, leaning against her. A soft summer breeze blew past them and into their home, ruffling up a small stack of paperwork that had been left on an end table in their living room. 

The couple both looked at the papers, similar faces of dread at the impending work that was waiting for them, when they had to come back to reality. As hidden as they were, that didn’t mean that they were excused from their active work. If they couldn’t be in the field, they’d be paperwork Shinobi. 

“I can’t wait for Yumi-chan to get older, so we can finally start getting real missions again,” Sora said with a little sigh. 

“But I’m still not looking forward to leaving her all alone,” Yuki muttered. “With random Genin in some daycare in the village. What happens when she misses us?” 

“She’ll understand. She’ll know that we’re fighting to protect her. Her and all the other children in the village. She’ll be proud of us, and one day, she’ll stand by our side.” Sora pulled back and gently nuzzled her daughter’s nose. “Won’t you, my love?” 

* * *

I’m quite sure I’ve done this ‘baby’ thing before. Though, I couldn’t remember it, and I was _ pretty sure _that these people weren’t my parents. But the carefully way they held me proved that I might be wrong. They loved me, and my stupid baby brain couldn’t help loving them back just as much. They were so warm, and they spoke to me in voice that calmed me to my core. 

I already knew that they were going to know I was a weird kid. My dad talked about it a lot to my mom, how quite, how _aware _I seemed to be. Which wasn't how a baby was supposed to act. But neither of them really knew anything about normal baby behavior. My parents were really young. Couldn't have been much older than twenty. Their faces were wrinkle-less and shiny. But their eyes carried a haunted shadow in them. Like a man and woman who had individually seen the very worst of humanity. Two people who had lost people close to them, as well as cause that loss to others. Warriors. 

This new place I found myself in came with all sorts of new problems-or allergies-as it were. I could sense it through the walls, which told me if my parents were close by, but it was the same sense inside my own body that would occasionally send me into a fit of sneezing. Swirling, changing, expanding. It made my baby moths totally miserable.

I later learned that this awful sensation was a family bread Chakra sensitivity from my mother's side, that was a result of her family technique. She'd sat me down in a high chair looking at our garden fence with aggravation. She looked over her shoulder for a second, where my father was pulling up weeds. Her hands blurred together for just half of a second, before wood began to sprout merrily from the ground. The energy intensified, and I did what any baby would do, I cried. I cried, and screamed until mother picked me up and held me. 

I'd seen that before, in another world, when I was still a high school kid. And it didn't make sense, but it was happening. And the dots were easily connected when my father could walk up a tree to get a kite that had flown away from us. How my mother could cut a bee in half with her nails when it flew to close to me. 

* * *

My parents went back to active duty when I was three years old. It was the first time I ever left the boundary of our house. My father carried me on his hip into a little classroom full of babies and toddlers. He looked worried and kept grabbing the teacher's arm, to add things for him to remember. 

"She really needs to have her stuffy after she wakes up from a nap, or she'll be fussy." 

"Don't feed her after five PM or she'll get a tummy ache." 

"She likes to be bounced on a knee. She also likes to play tag. And chase." 

The teacher gave him a pleasant smile and took me from him, setting me down to the ground and pushed me gently towards the other children. "She'll be fine, Amari-san," he said. He turned my father around and gently guided him towards the door. "She'll be here, happy to see you, after your mission is finished." 

My father stopped in the doorway and shifted uncomfortably. "And...what happens if we never come back?" He asked. 

The Chunin sighed and moved a little closer. "The children are taken care of with the Orphan and Widows fund. She'll learn your names and be given free tuition to the academy, if she chooses that path. She'll be _fine, _no matter what happens." 

When my father was satisfied, he and my mother left me with one last wave goodbye. Then the Chunin grabbed me by the hand and knelt down so he was at my level. He had a pleasant smile, which took away from the shocking scars that ran up and down his neck. His brown hair fell around his cheeks. "What do you want to do, Yumi-chan?" He asked. 

"Blocks," I said, the answer coming instantly to my dumb baby brain. I was at the phase where I needed stimuli to keep myself active, or I'd turn into mush. 

"Alright, let's go play blocks," he said. He led me over to a little toy chest where there were three small children playing excitedly. Ranging between the ages of two all the way to about the age of six. There were several dumb babies smacking the blocks into their mouths and drooling all over their hands. Blocks, suddenly, didn't sound as fun. I looked up at my new caretaker with a displeased scowl that he returned with a bashful smile. 

The children looked up when they saw me approaching them. None of them seemed familiar to me. No tufts of bright yellow hair, no deep stress lines (not that he'd be here with _us _in the drool corner). So it set my mind at ease that I must have currently been living sometime before or after the original timeline. That was satisfying enough for me to drop onto my butt and scoot closer to the children. There were no spare blocks, and it seemed that our caretaker would need to intervene on my behalf. But he didn't. He stood there, smiling pleasantly at me. 

So I reached out and grabbed a toy away from a small boy whose eyes instantly welled with tears at the loss of his treasure. That was fine with me. He could just go find some other toy to play with. I looked at the wooden block in my hand, and realized that there wasn't much fun to be had with only a single block. So now the boy was screaming, and I held an object that was useless to me. I wish there were more blocks. Wished I could just make more appear out of thing air. So I threw the block back into his lap and stood up to go find something else to do, my block mood thoroughly ruined. 

The caretaker fallowed me from station to station, just as perplexed by my attitude as I was. There was a small shelf of books, where a bored looking teenager sat, watching all of us toddle around. I grabbed the brightest book I could find (hot pink with a sparkly rabbit holding a sword) and handed it to her. "Read please," I said, my mother's instance on manners kicking in while I was in the presence of what I considered 'an adult.' 

She looked up the cover and nodded, opening to the first page, and sitting on the floor so I could see the pictures. 

> _Usagi was a funny bunny, hopping to and fro. Usagi was a strong bunny, striking naughty foxes where she'd go. _
> 
> _Usagi was a proud bunny, hailing from the land of cotton tails. Where other little bunnies learned how to protect each other without fail. _
> 
> _Usagi was a smart bunny, who gathered information everywhere she went. Naughty foxes, were no match for Usagi's quick wit. _
> 
> _Usagi used all her power, and all her might, to protect her village throughout the night. Usagi was a good bunny. _
> 
> _Usagi was a loyal bunny, doing everything she was told. Nothing would sway her, no land, love, power or gold. _
> 
> _When you grow up, little one, who will you choose to be? If you grow up and become a strong ninja from the village in the leaves. Maybe you can try and be a good bunny, just like Usagi. _

Trite propaganda, I instantly recognized. But Usagi-chan was cute, and the book made Usagi's tail fluffy. So I demanded that the young ninja read it again. And again. And then one more time, until another young girl came over with a book request. So I wondered off to find something new to do. 

At the drawing table, there were mostly printed out pictures of weapons and animals. I sat at the tiny multicolored chairs and grabbed a box of crayons. I decided to color a picture of a proud leaf shinobi jumping through the trees. That whole place was weird. Looking around, it was obvious that we were all the children of Shinobi. That was why we were here, after all. We didn't have any other babysitters while our parents were away on long mission. And, I suppose, that the conditioning had to start early. 

* * *

Later in the day, the three caretakers rounded up all the children for daily lessons. They grouped us off by age group. I was with the one through three group. We were sat down at a table, and told to try and write our names. My stupid baby hands were having one hell of a time grabbing at the pencil. But with a little help, I managed to sloppily write the characters of my name. The caretaker leaned over me. "Good job, Yumi-chan," she said, lifting my paper up and placing another page down in front of me. "How about you try and copy these words too." I looked up at her, almost irritated that she was giving me more work. I picked my pen back up and slowly started on the first stroke of the next word, sticking my tongue out in concentration. 

"Can you tell me what _this _word says?" She asked, pointing to the word I'd just finished. 

"Fire," I said. Tracing the word with my fingers. 

"Good!" She smiled and clapped her hands. "Now try and write this word," she said, pointing to the next one down. She watched me slowly draw out the word. "Very nice. Now what does that word mean?" 

"Rain," I said. 

King, sound, down, spirit. 

Change sheets, more kanji. More reading. More writing. High pitched congratulations. Eventually I realized that the other kids had gone off to play.

"Wow, Yumi-chan, you're really smart." The caretaker gently pat my head, a proud smile on her face. It felt nice. "Who taught you how to read like that?" She asked. 

"My mama," I said. I turned away from her and joined a few of the other kids who were finger painting. They mostly ignored the 'baby' that had bumbled her way into their circle, but they didn't keep the paints from me, so it didn't really matter. I was painting my father, my mother, and I standing on the porch. Just stick figures, smiling in the bright sun. Mother was making the trees in the front yard. 

I turned around, and saw the three caretakers standing in a circle, whispering to each other. My teacher for the day was showing off the shity handwritten pages, pointing to them with an excited smile on her face. And why wouldn't she be excited? 'Oh she's so smart, oh, she'll be an amazing ninja.' I should have seen that coming. 

My mother had seen the seen the same thing that these shinobi were. I was smarter than the average three year old. She noticed when I was one, and could recognize patterns and small words in books she read me. Since then she'd been teaching me to read. She thought it would be useful to me. Maybe she didn't see the consequences. Or maybe she didn't consider this a consequence, maybe to her, having a 'genius' daughter was a reward for her dedication to the village. Never mind we were lacking in cannon fodder. 

That night when they laid us down for bed in comfy little cots on the ground, I stared up at the roof, counting the tiles, trying to calm the beating of my heart. I still didn't know where in the timeline I was. I suppose I could handle being a fake-genius if we were placed _after _Naruto had saved the world from evil aliens. When things were peaceful. That would be fine, I could just impress people and it wouldn't be a problem. 

But...

If it was _during. _The fourth war, the destruction of Konoha. Orochimaru. That fake-genius would be the death of me, for sure. I needed to tone in down. 

But...

Wouldn't it just look more suspicious if I suddenly started to act dumb? Normal? Would they think I was hiding something? 

I didn't sleep very well that night. 


End file.
